


They Poisoned the Wind

by Turwen



Series: They Poisoned the Wind [1]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: (for Poison Ivy), Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, F/F, Gen, Ivy POV, Post-Mad Max: Fury Road, past Harley/Ivy - Freeform, reborn Poison Ivy (Bramble)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turwen/pseuds/Turwen
Summary: Ivy died in the apocalypse along with her wife, Harley, but plants are not so easy to kill forever and she was reborn as Bramble. She has since dedicated herself to the lengthy mission of nurturing the regrowth of Earth’s biome… and dealing with the humans who destroyed it. It’s been several years since the events on the Fury Road, and Bramble has come to what used to be called Australia, following a particularly vibrant trail with equally vicious human pollution to The Citadel. But when she arrives, this one is different.





	They Poisoned the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a couple of Stjepan Sejic’s Ivy pages [https://twitter.com/stjepansejic/status/1079779002141868032 https://twitter.com/stjepansejic/status/1086351070476013568]. Thanks to my wife, Cimorene_Weatherwax, for brainstorming and betaing!

Humans are an infestation responsible for all the ills the rest of life has suffered. But at least they lead her to where she can find clean water and growing things, like spots on a petri dish. For years now she’s wandered the world, picking up faint trails of life, so often contaminated with human activity, and nurturing them, while cleansing any human taint. She’s come to what they used to call Australia, following a particularly vibrant trail with equally vicious human pollution. She had not expected this one to be so different.

 

There was so much water here! She had smelt it on the wind weeks ago. A tiny freshness on the poisoned wind. Now she can hear the rustling of leaves and stalks kilometers away. The plants sing to her. There are voices here she hasn’t heard since before the Extinction. The vermin must have managed some soil reclamation, but where had the found the seeds? 

 

There are three great rocks, each crowned with an abundance of plants, even by the standards of yesteryear. They remind her of the overflowing hanging pots she used to keep for Harley. Now that is an unexpected thought, and it brings with it pains from a more complicated time. This is a simpler age. 

 

She already knows she will be staying here for years to tend to this garden. There are so many here that will benefit from her touch, flourish under her care. She need only perform a little pest control first.

 

She drank a few days ago. It will be enough. Dry, gnarled vines erupt from her back, reaching out in a halo around her, ready to defend and attack. Bramble feels herself go dry, drier really, as they suck at her reserves. She’s forgotten what it was like to command an abundance of plants around her, for the water to be endless. Perhaps this place will remind her.

 

Nestled in amongst the rocks is a settlement, a series of short walls connecting the natural pillars and protecting it from the outside world. And here they come, internal combustion engine powered vehicles pouring out of the main gate and heading her way. It was sad really. She almost never had to start the fight. It was as if her presence alone drove the humans to try to kill her immediately. As if her mere existence reminded them of their guilt. How would these ones try?

 

A selection of larger vehicles comes to a stop some distance away, two wheeled types fanning out in a loose arc. There are humans disembarking, walking towards her. Now this is interesting. She has not had ones that tried to talk their way out in many years, certainly not ones who were this numerous and strong.

 

The delegation seems comprised of women, even stranger. As they come close enough to make out details, she stills her vines. They can talk. For a moment.

 

The leader is a young woman, surprisingly healthy for this era, with eyes wise beyond her years and hair a nostalgia inducing red. Either side of her are two others, another young and unmarred woman with a sharp gaze and long, platinum hair, and an older woman, without hair and wearing a rather ingenious looking prosthetic arm. The first two are in white robes, but the third wears sturdy and practical clothes. This one is the fighter—and yet she bears no weapon. The other two…

 

The leader approaches and falls to her knees some ten meters away, her arms open with palms facing out. “I am Capable and I welcome you to the Citadel, my Lady. May what is ours be yours and may we heal the world.”

 

She’s seen this before. They called her the goddess of death. She once even let them build a temple to her, just to see how far they would grovel in an effort to save themselves, but then one of them trod on a new shoot and she saw the folly of mercy. Yet this one speaks of healing. What could they know of healing the world? She feels the anger boil up inside her, the force that has never failed to sustain her all these long years. The vines begin to snake out towards the group.

 

The blonde one pulls a hand from her sleeve and advances to meet her, holding aloft a small object. Determination in her eyes, she does not look away. And there is something else, a pleading look, desperation even. So she will beg for their lives. Of course talking was a waste of time. But the vines do not wish to touch her, and she comes all the way to Bramble’s feet before falling to her knees in turn. She thrusts the seed at her and does, indeed, beg. “Please Mother, I cannot get them to grow!”

 

Oh.

  
  
  



End file.
